


Broken Time

by fabricdragon



Series: Complex Like Math, Smooth Like Jazz [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Jim Moriarty, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Family Issues, Jazz - Freeform, M/M, Music, Omega Mycroft Holmes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Mycroft Holmes, Politics, Secret Relationship, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-04 05:52:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17298992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Most people don't know Mycroft Holmes is an Omega (and thats very critical to security) almost no no one knew Jim Moriarty was an Alpha (and that's a headache)  so how can Mycroft trust James really means to court him, for himself?  and what is going to happen when it eventually becomes public?NOTE: the primary relationship has political and trust issues, however the threats and Trigger Warnings are from a different direction.Follows directly after Syncopation (and will make more sense if you read that first although there is a slight recap)





	1. Off the record

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mickie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickie/gifts).



James was convinced he could find some way for them to be together…without Mycroft having to leave England. Mycroft was beginning to think leaving England would be a fairly small price to pay. The concept of a Bond, of children, was something he had long ago put aside, but…what if?

He managed the remaining week of his work well enough, although Jane noticed–she noticed everything, of course, that’s why she was his PA.

“Sir?” she said quietly after closing the door on his last meeting before the weekend. “I swear I won’t report this to anyone, but… I’m beginning to be quite concerned.”

Mycroft smiled tiredly at her, “An actual off the record conversation, my dear?  Won’t your assorted paymasters be rather annoyed?”

“They are already rather annoyed, in fact.” She smiled back and pulled a small box out of her purse, “Caramel?”

“You fiend.” He intoned solemnly. “Shall I pour tea or something stronger?”

“Tea I think.”

“Despite it all, you know I do trust you–within limits– but this…”

“Just… how bad a security threat is this Alpha, Mycroft?”

“Ah, straight to the point I see–you knew about me, of course, from finding my  pills.” Mycroft smiled faintly, “He’s a horrible security threat–couldn’t be worse in fact.”

She frowned, “Why… I don’t believe you are being blackmailed, as I said, but… I admit I am confused: why see him if it’s this difficult?”

“Dahlia is a lovely name,” Mycroft sighed–Jane was Dahlia today– “I’m quite serious, Jane, I will speak to you about it–I think I need to talk to someone less involved–but…”

Jane raised an eyebrow and took off her earrings; she dropped them into her purse. “I left my phone at my desk, and I just put my last bit of electronics in my shielded purse–all that’s left would be shooting you.”

“If this got out, it might be kinder…”

She began to look quite alarmed and finally reached over and touched his hand gently, “You know I work for English interests… but… if …” she took a deep breath, “If this is bad enough, I do have contacts outside of England… they are tenuous but I might be able to get you some identification at least.”

Mycroft was touched, “Thank you my dear, but no… if I wanted to vanish I am sure my… He could manage it–that’s part of the problem.”

“Alright, I swear I won’t breathe a word of it unless you are in danger.”

“When I went down to talk to Moriarty–the night he was released?” she nodded and he went on, “I felt unwell, and… my suppressants failed.”

She inhaled sharply. “Who noticed?”

“He did,” Mycroft watched her confused look slowly morph into one of shock as he continued, “Jim Moriarty is an Alpha.”

“…he is… HE is?... but the restraints…”

“When I fainted out of my chair, he snapped them with ease and caught me.”  Mycroft took one of the caramels and spent a moment just savoring it.

“You… wait… he didn’t Bond you?”

“No, he was unfailingly polite, got me safely to my office, gave me my pills, lectured me on having an emergency Suppressant shot… and left.”  He sipped his tea and let it blend with the caramel in his mouth before continuing, “he left the information on my computer–I wasn’t in any condition to ask.”

“Dear God…” She sipped her tea quietly, then… “THAT’S who you took to the embassy?!”

“First we went out to dinner and music, actually,” Mycroft looked at her expression and chuckled, “and then I called my brother and… tried to get some advice–which turned out remarkably well– and because of that advice I changed our dance date to the embassy instead of someplace far less secure.”

“Does… you told your brother?” she sounded incredulous–for good reason.

“Only that there was an Alpha, named James, whose security clearance was a problem–not that he was Moriarty.”

“Whose security clearance is a problem,” she muttered into her tea, “That, sir, is the understatement of the century.”  She looked up, “why didn’t he Bond you then?”

“He… is courting me, in fact.  I find it hard to believe but he was emphatic that a forced Bond was not something he wanted.”  Mycroft looked around his office, “he was also rather able to prove that any information he wanted out of my official business, he could get with ease.”

“Jim… Moriarty…” she said as though trying to convince herself, “Is an Alpha… could have Bonded you several times over… and is courting you.”

“I believe you can see why I have been distracted of late?”

“Hell of a distraction…”

They sat  in companionable silence for a time.

“Are you going to tell your brother?”

“Yes.  I already said if the date for dancing went well, and he didn’t run screaming after the security discussion–that was Tuesday– I would introduce him.” Mycroft winced, “It’s not going to be pleasant.”

“I would imagine not… wasn’t he… err… interested in Sherlock?”

“Yes, he has been remarkably frank and forthcoming about it.”

“Are you introducing them… soon?”

“Likely not. James unexpectedly had to go out of the country–he didn’t tell me what it was about; simply said it didn’t cross into any of my business– and therefore I can’t introduce them properly until he gets back.”

“I don’t see any way this would work without you fleeing the country–at least.”

“And I already told him I am unwilling to leave my work–for now.”  Mycroft started tidying up; Jane began gathering the tea accoutrements. “He indicated that he might be able to find a solution…”

“…I… well… if some of his records in our file had… issues…” she spoke hesitantly, “it might help.”

Mycroft’s stopped and stared at her, “You… would go along with it?”

She looked at him firmly, “I do NOT like any of this, but… you are a very valuable part of English intelligence.  The options appear to be that you run off with Moriarty–which is clearly bad for English interests– or you find a way to have your relationship here–in which case he has incentive to cause fewer problems for English interests.”

“You always were a superlative analyst, my dear.”

“It’s a peculiar way to deal with a threat to national security, but…” she nodded, “I will want to meet with him as well–outside of an interrogation facility.” She shook her head, “I NEVER would have guessed he was an Alpha…”

“He’s a very nice Alpha…” Mycroft smiled, “And… if you actually wish to meet him–off the record– I’m certain it can be arranged when he gets back.”

“I will want all of his contact information.” She gave him a very firm look, “I will not reveal any of this unless I feel you are in danger, as I said, but… for security’s sake its good you told someone, and I need the contact information you have.”

Mycroft considered carefully, “You have a point.  I have various emails, phone numbers and so on… and one physical location: The Magpie.”

“The what?”

“A lovely place with the best fish and chips I ever had–live music daily… apparently James owns it.” he shrugged, “He says he doesn’t run any illicit business out of it–merely wanted a secure place to have music and fish and chips.”

“Fish and chips?”

“All the places I knew have closed, and I hadn’t even noticed… in any case, they have different types of music  on different days…” he could almost taste the food and see James smiling at the music.

“You…” she sighed resignedly, “You look smitten, you know.”

Mycroft winced, “I expect I do.  I am finding myself acting rather outlandishly–my brother had to lecture me on security.”

“Dear God!”  She took a deep breath, “Well… have a lovely weekend, sir, and…let me know when he gets back into town.”

Mycroft nodded. “As per my brother’s suggestion I am now wearing a tracker and carrying a panic alarm as well… as I would when dealing with active threats.”

She took note of it. “And carrying the emergency suppressant I trust?”

“Yes, and there is now one in my desk drawer under the chocolates.”

“Good.”  She gathered her things to go, and then took her earrings out and put them back on. “Good luck with your brother, sir: I do think Doctor Watson has been good for him.”

 _Of course anyone would assume they had been discussing my brother._ He held the door open for her, “Thank you for being a sounding board, Dahlia, I know I am not precisely objective when it comes to him.”

“No one is objective with family or… personal relationships, sir.” She nodded and took the tea away.

Mycroft went home and turned on the Jazz station and ate some of the caviar. He went over the day in his mind as he did before bed, wondering what on earth possessed him to trust Jane that far… _It’s a safety check in case James isn’t what he claims to be,_ he reminded himself.

“Caring is not a virtue.”  He sighed, one of his oldest lessons. “All lives end,” he thought about the Alpha he had once had a ridiculous teenage crush on. “All hearts are broken…”

 After far too long of sitting in bed staring at nothing Mycroft sighed. “If you break my heart, James, I hope you have the decency to shoot me first.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time apart

Mycroft texted Sherlock early on Saturday, expecting he would get the message at some point–he called back within minutes.

“Did you talk to him yet?” Sherlock asked.

Mycroft blinked at the phone and checked the time, “Whatever are you doing awake at this hour?” he considered, “An interesting case then?”

“Never mind. Did you?”

“Yes, as it happens… and… I would like to talk to you if you are available.”

“I can be there in an hour–John is asleep, so I’ll just leave him a note.”

Mycroft considered traffic on a Saturday morning at this hour, and prepared breakfast.  He was rather smug that it was just ready for the table when Sherlock walked in.

“You’ve been unusually cheerful, and…” he looked at the table, “I assume you are going forward with this then?”

“We have agreed to try.” Mycroft nodded and they sat down.  Most of their considerations were a game of deducing each other–as it usually was– but Mycroft was pleased to see that Sherlock seemed happier, and more relaxed.

“So do you, you know,” Sherlock replied to his unspoken appraisal. “Your relationship must be good for you.  What happened to your endless warnings about such things?”

“They are generally true, Sherlock. The situation is very complex, and it is entirely because… I have allowed myself to become attached.” He sighed, “I dearly hope he is genuine, but even if he is, and this is entirely a matter of mutual compatibility and personal interest… well, it can still go badly wrong.”

“When do I meet this Alpha?”

“He had to go out of town on his own business, not long after our discussion: I… however much I think the two of you in one room is a disaster waiting to happen? I will introduce you when he returns.”

“Hmmm.” Sherlock looked dubious.

Mycroft nodded at him. “I did, however, give all of his contact information, as well as the basic facts, to my PA.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows did not so much elevate as levitate, “Doesn’t she spy on you?”

“Of course she does–everyone in my office spies on me.” Mycroft waved a hand, “In fact I have had some information that some of it is going to entirely the wrong people, but… I wanted a security back up and…” he looked thoughtfully at Sherlock, “She has kept certain confidences for me before–I have reason to believe she will this time as well.  In any event it is a failsafe of sorts.”

“If you say so…” Sherlock looked annoyed, “I take it I do NOT get this information?”

“You’d just start deducing him in absentia, Sherlock.”

“I’m already doing so.”

“I would rather deal with you two actually meeting, but it is in fact one reason I gave her all the information–she knows to call you in event of an incident.” Mycroft sighed, “And yes I have been wearing the tracker, carrying the panic button and instant heat suppressant, and taking more reasonable precautions.”

“…I…” Sherlock looked intently into his tea cup, “I hope, for your sake, that it works out…”

“So do I.” Mycroft cleared his throat, “So… John is taking the news of your being an Alpha fairly well.”

“He’s making me do all the bag carrying, and he made me move the couch.” Sherlock grumbled.

“Fairly well as I said.”

“Yes, well… Betas have it far easier.” Sherlock sighed, “We had… we had an Omega at the crime scene this week.”

“Oh? I don’t pay much attention to local things–what happened?”

“Don’t pretend Greg doesn’t give you a report.” Sherlock snorted.

“Of course he does; I haven’t read it yet–so what happened?”

“Oh, a murder… the murderer tried to make it look like something it wasn’t–failed miserably of course–but then some interesting complications ensued… in any event the murderer was an Alpha and his Bondmate was being abused…”

Mycroft winced, “How badly?”

“Emotional abuse, mostly, but… anyway John spoke to her and got her calmed down–she’s better off away from him, no matter how painful  it will be in the short run.”

Mycroft studied him carefully, “Forced Heats?”

“Yes, he was one of those Neanderthals who felt that sex with his Omega was more desirable in Heat so…”

“I never understood that.” Mycroft sighed.  He thought happily about mathematics and music discussions, and witty, sarcastic, banter at the embassy.

“You would hardly be attracted to that Alpha if he wasn’t intelligent and… interested in more than sex, Mycroft.” Sherlock looked uncomfortable, “Also could you stop looking so vapidly wistful? It’s unnerving.”

“I do not look vapid, Sherlock!  I was remembering some of our very intelligent conversations… as well as some of his rather barbed commentary at the embassy party…” 

Sherlock shook his head but he was smiling, “I’ll want to meet him as SOON as he gets back, Mycroft.”

“Naturally.” Mycroft nodded. “My regards to your landlady and to John.”

Sherlock nodded and went out.

…

Sunday evening Mycroft received a text: “Miss you–business is boring–people are idiots. JM” Mycroft spent quite a few minutes trying to figure out what kind of coded message it was before realizing it was quite literal.

“People are usually idiots.  My PA wants to meet you–she knows who you are–my brother also wants to meet you–he does not.”

After a pause of several hours he received a reply, “Jane? Flower names by the alphabet? Too observant by half?  That PA?  You DO know she reports to people–not me, sadly.”

Mycroft once again flinched at how much information he had. “I am well aware, but we have a history of keeping certain confidences.”

“Well, that’s your call, not mine. If things go well I’ll be back in another week–if they don’t go well it will be two–I refuse to let it go to three… and I am utterly DYING for intelligent conversation, but can’t be seen texting.  L”

“I envy you: not only do I deal with governmental idiots, but I am having to deal with a ‘useful’ person who is utterly slime–the very instant I can I am having him poisoned.”

“ooooh! Tell me!”

“I thought you had to go?”

“…you… are evil. XOXO”

“I hesitate to wish you good fortune in your endeavors–since I have no idea what they may be– but I hope you are back soon.”

“ta!”

Mycroft smiled at the messages and once again wondered where in the world he was, and what he was doing–the usual international briefings hadn’t given him anything useful. 

On less pleasant matters, he was going to have to deal with Magnussen again on Monday which would likely spoil his entire week… still better to get it over with.

After some consideration Mycroft picked out his most aggressive cologne.  Magnussen had a sensitive nose, according to his own complaints, and Mycroft saw no reason to make him feel welcome.  Sadly his ‘most aggressive’ cologne was still rather subtle.

He sent a text asking Jane if she could wear something rather strongly scented in time for Magnusson’s arrival. She replied with a texted grin, so Mycroft assumed she would do so.

…

In fact she had apparently–on no notice– gotten the entire office in on it.  When Mycroft came in Monday morning the office was an unusually strong riot of colognes, potpourri, and perfumes.  Normally he would object–strenuously– but today he simply nodded approvingly.

When Jane walked in–Gentiana today– he didn’t smell anything unusual, however.

“Not participating?”

“My nose is already clogging up,” She smirked, “But I brought the strongest perfume I own in my purse: I shall apply it shortly before he arrives.”

“Bless you–let’s see if we can get rid of him before MY nose objects too strongly.”

Magnussen managed to ooze slime all over him for half an hour before leaving–far too long, but a drastic improvement over the three hours of last week.  Mycroft shuddered and wiped his hand off on his handkerchief–Magnusson wasn’t actually physically slimy, but he still felt like he needed a bath after dealing with the man.

Jane walked in–and her perfume was sinfully sweet and spicy, and would have been quite alluring if it had been dabbed on instead of applied with a heavy hand. “He is gone, and I have ordered everyone to go wash up in shifts… I also ordered in alcohol to remove the more stubborn scents.”

“That would be an attractive scent for you if–”

“If I hadn’t bathed in it? Yes, quite.” She nodded.  “I commend you to the showers at your club, and I will be doing likewise at the gym.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Mycroft sighed, “Sadly he will be back again next week.”

“I shall order in gas masks if need be–anything that removes that man from the premises sooner is something that simply must be put up with.”

He escaped to his club and did his best to get the horrible mixed scents out of his nose.  Unfortunately even with the best efforts at cleaning up–and extra air circulation– the offices smelled rather peculiarly fragrant over the next several days.

He managed a few short texts with James–who was evidently increasingly frustrated and bored with whatever he was up to…

And he and Jane began the systemic erasure or alteration of the records of Jim Moriarty’s stay in holding.  He shouldn’t have been too surprised to find many of the records already heavily edited, but it was well done.

“Bastard.” Jane muttered as she turned in a report on the edited fingerprints–they had been edited before she got to them.

“Quite possibly,” Mycroft couldn’t help but be impressed. “And the medical records?”

“Well they were horrible anyway,” she shrugged, “since they had him listed as a Beta. I created records indicating that a blood test confirmed that.”

“Excellent, that can be used to prove that he isn’t the Alpha I end up seeing, no matter the resemblance… although the resemblance may be less of an issue than I thought.”

“In what way?”

“His facial features and photographs in our files keep morphing,” Mycroft brought up the recordings. “Not only have some of the recordings vanished entirely, but… notice the difference in the jaw and hairline?  It is subtly different every single day, slowly changing away from his actual appearance… it’s a cleverly concealed program in our systems… and brilliant work.”

She stared at the image on the computer, “It IS different!  How long has THAT been going on?”

“I suspect since shortly after I discussed the issues with him and… he said he would work on it.”  Mycroft smiled, “I recognize the mathematics he’s using in the alteration program… its rather sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“It’s… based on a discussion of mathematics we had in interrogation before I felt faint.”

“…” Jane finally closed her mouth and just nodded, “Sweet… yes… certainly… for some value of sweet…I shall get back to my filing then.”

…

…

Friday he received an envelope in the mail–it had scanned as harmless and was allowed through, but it had no return address. Mycroft’s first thought was that it might be from James, but…something wasn’t right. He opened it with some caution but it seemed to be a single piece of paper…

It was a photocopy of his last full set of laboratory blood work with the secondary gender– ‘ Omega’– circled in red.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slime... and how to wash it off

Mycroft went home, and settled himself into his favorite chair to think. He was going over the political ramifications, what Magnussen likely wanted, and all the other usual issues when his phone chimed.  He looked down and realized it was quite late… and it was James.

“If you are still awake, get to bed–I’d tell you to have fun, but you never go out and have fun, so …”

“I am still awake, as it happens.  How is your business going?”

“I got fed up and shot someone.  that seemed to make things move a bit faster so I will be back this week!”  Then a few moments later,  “why are you still up? Insomnia?”

“Considering politics, and unhappily dealing with that slime I mentioned.  I may yet have him poisoned–do you have any really good untraceable ones?”

“I knew you had it in you!  No darling, you never want an untraceable poison at your level: you want an obvious one you can pin on the wrong people. Think of it as wine pairings!”

Mycroft chuckled to himself. “True… I don’t usually poison people so I hadn’t thought of it.  I wonder what  kind of poison goes with Danish slime?”

There was a pause and then, “Mycroft… are you by chance having to deal with CAM?”

Mycroft hesitated. “As you know I can’t give you any information about my business, but… how do you know that name?”

“You… He’s an Alpha, a blackmailer, completely untrustworthy, power hungry, manipulative and… I will CHEERFULLY remove him for you if he’s troubling you: he’s not that useful.”

“I knew he was an Alpha–it was in his security report: also his hands sweat and he stinks.” Mycroft scrubbed his hand off again just thinking about it. Of course Moriarty would have had some contact with him–he was useful, the same reason Mycroft was supposed to deal with him. It warmed something in him, though, that James thought he wasn’t useful enough to outweigh him troubling Mycroft.

“He’s dangerous, Darling…seriously.  I won’t tell you how to run your business but do be careful?  I’ll be back in town Monday at the latest, but I expect to need a bit of down time before I’m fit company…”

Mycroft smiled at the phone and replied, “it makes my weekend much brighter just knowing that you’ll be back soon– we can discuss slime removal over fish and chips?”

“Deal. One of the few times I will discuss business at the Magpie. XOXO”

Mycroft took himself up to bed–he was tired, and the stress wasn’t doing much good for him.

It was sometime Saturday morning when he woke up suddenly with the answer.

…

Monday bright and early Magnussen showed up–he wasn’t due until much later. _Trying to establish dominance and unsettle me, I expect._

“You are early.  My schedule is–”

“You will make time for me, Mycroft.” He said it with an attitude of authority.

“I also never gave you permission to use my first name: it is rather an imposition.” Mycroft continued to read his emails. “You shall have to come back at your appointment time– unless there is something urgent?”

Magnussen walked around Mycroft’s desk and leaned into his personal space. “We have some rather… delicate… information to discuss.”

Mycroft looked up with his blandest expression and found himself staring directly into the man’s eyes– _Was he trying to leverage his gaze into submitting me?_   Mycroft stood up without moving away, keeping his gaze locked on Magnussen’s and slowly curling his lip. “You have just used up the LAST of my patience, Mister Magnussen.” He reached to the call button.

Magnussen grabbed his hand. “You wouldn’t want to do that: after all, your position could hardly be held by an Omega…”

Mycroft pushed the button and shook his hand off:  Jane came in immediately, of course.

“Yes, Mister Holmes?”

“Escort Mister Magnussen out, if you please–if he will not leave have him shot.” Mycroft looked coolly at him, “Oh, and your oh-so-impressive Alpha gaze needs work.”

“I will publish–”

Mycroft smiled politely, “Go right ahead.” He looked past him to Jane. “Nigella? He apparently believes he can prove I am an Omega… and is going to publish that: DO get the office prepared.”

Her eyes widened but that was her only response–wonderful woman–“Certainly sir. Mister Magnussen? Mister Holmes requested you be escorted out.”

His face twisted, “You know she reports on you to–”

“Everyone in the office spies on me,” Mycroft said calmly as Magnussen stood for a moment with a look of fury–he turned and stalked out.

Mycroft went to the lavatory and scrubbed the man’s smell off his hand.  _Odd how he had never caused the slightest interest…_ Mycroft smiled, _James barely touched me and I was losing control._ Mycroft considered _: his deliberate gaze did nothing, but James made me weak in the knees with a glance._

Jane came back after seeing Magnussen out, by which point he had sent  a message to the rest of the intelligence network stating that Magnussen had attempted to blackmail him–and threaten him– and he had TOLD them he wasn’t worth dealing with.

“Hopefully we can have him shot officially,” Mycroft commented as she came in.

“He will have left instructions, sir… your secret would be out…” she looked quite concerned. “He was… oozing at me about how I needed to persuade you to take his offer.” She shuddered slightly.

“I trust you washed up.” Mycroft got out a bit of polish and cleaned the man’s palm print off his desk and his finger prints off of his chair. “Let him.”

“Let him?!”

“Never pay a blackmailer, my dear, it just encourages them.”  He smiled at her, “Did you leave your earrings again?”

“And phone,” she nodded. “The earrings supposedly don’t record but I never trusted them–they are at my desk… what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

She blinked, “I beg your pardon?”

“Chocolate?” he offered her a piece from his stash.  She took it and waited. “Mister Magnussen has two options–to decide to publish, or not.”  He looked at his computer with some fondness. “If he does, then it is highly possible I will be forced to resign.”

“You…” her eyes followed his gaze, “At which point which Alpha you Bond with is a moot point…” she almost whispered.

“Indeed.  And he loses an advantageous contact and business with the British Government, AND upsets a number of people who will have to replace me.”  Mycroft sighed happily, “I almost wish he would… but likely he will think better of it and move on to trying to pressure someone else.”

“That… he certainly wouldn’t have expected you to call his bluff.”

“No.  I wonder if he will maintain his calm, or do something foolish?” Mycroft considered and instructed office security to higher alert.

“I wonder what he wanted you to do to keep it quiet!”

Mycroft shuddered, “Nothing worth considering.  In any case, James will be back this week–may be back already for that matter– and I can introduce you.”  He winced faintly, “And… then explain this entire matter to Sherlock.”

“I don’t envy you that.” She admitted, “I have no idea what he will do…”

“Neither do I.”  Mycroft sighed and gave her instructions to keep the business running smoothly in case Magnussen DID decide to publish, and got back to work.

And spent the rest of the day dealing with Love and the others carrying on about it–they all seemed rather distressed at his lack of concern.

When he got home he realized a potential problem and sent a text to his brother:

“Just so you know, a ‘useful’ slime has decided he wants to blackmail me over my being an Omega. I almost wish he would publish  because it would solve my relationship problems quite neatly, but I doubt he will.  He may try to pressure you in some way–call me if he does.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not the kind of reunion anyone wanted....  
> (Mind the trigger warnings and tags)

 

Mycroft went through Tuesday morning with half his attention.  He kept thinking about how much less stress it would be to simply leave this job, and then worrying about what would happen if he did.  So many of the people who tried to handle these problems made things worse–could he really retire?

He had lunch brought to his office instead of going to his club as he usually would.  Eventually he would be gone–either through assassination or simple retirement–even if he never Bonded, never…

The idea of not Bonding with James almost caused him physical pain.

 _Be honest,_ he told himself firmly _, sentiment and fear are blinding you to facts: he’s your Alpha.  You are Bonded in all but the final steps and have been for some time.  At this point the actual physical act of Bonding is…nearly irrelevant._

Mycroft nodded and called in Jane.

“You haven’t finished your lunch…” she said worriedly–she wasn’t wearing earrings and had left her purse at her desk as well.

“Jane… I have realized that… I have been rather foolish.” Mycroft nodded–more to himself than to her. “You are my best analyst, and your loyalties are at least understandable… “

“Sir?” she came over  quietly and paused, “Are you not feeling well?”

“I am facing unpleasant truths, my dear.” Mycroft turned the computer so she could see it, “You need to be brought up to speed on how to take over my duties.”

“Even if he published I don’t believe–”

“I could be assassinated at any time–yes we make it difficult, but it could happen– I could be forced to retire, I could have a medical crisis, or I could bloody well decide to quit.”  Mycroft pointed at a chair, “Now let me go over the emergency procedures with you.”

“We… I already have the emergency procedures?”

“No, you don’t–you have about half of the codes and passwords you would actually need in an emergency: now I’m giving you the rest.”

They worked through the day: he was finally getting ready to leave when a call came through from the Prime Minister’s secretary–some kind of problem with a royal, and…

“I will be there shortly, but my time this evening is limited.” Mycroft sighed into the phone.  He’d hoped that James would be rested enough to meet for fish and chips tonight.

Mycroft waited impatiently until the car came to pick him up. The Prime Minister’s car was far more luxurious than his own–Mycroft despised it, but visiting dignitaries expected amenities.  He ignored the bar and the refrigerator as he usually did, and was working on a code breaking exercise–he rather enjoyed them– when a faint smell alerted him to a problem…

He had just enough time to activate the panic button before he passed out.

…

_My mouth feels like cotton…stiff…car? Drugs… kidnapped… feverish? Drug aftereffects._

“I can tell you’re awake, Mycroft.” _Magnussen’s voice._

Mycroft opened his eyes and took a quick assessment: he was lying rather awkwardly on a sofa, and his wrists were bound with zip ties–his ankles appeared to be free–his jacket and vest were missing, but he was still in his shirt and trousers… _I’ve been searched briefly… and… ugh, I can feel his sweat on me._

“I see you’ve completely lost your mind.” Mycroft managed to sit up.

“Not at all. I had plans–you have caused problems.” _Magnussen was in something like casual pajamas?_ He continued, “Our arrangements could have been considerably simpler, but…” he shrugged– _trying to imply this was my fault._

“I was carrying a tracker and a panic alarm,” Mycroft began to point out and then stopped suddenly as Magnussen tossed Sherlock’s phone onto the coffee table.

“That went directly to your brother–obvious.” Magnussen smiled tightly, “The two of them were easy enough to acquire–as were their phone records.  You were seeing some Alpha and hadn’t yet introduced him to your brother. Your brother was concerned that you might be taken advantage of.”

“You do realize that kidnapping–or murder– will be traced to you, unlike blackmail?” Mycroft tried to keep calm but his pulse seemed to be erratic and he felt so very unwell.

“Murder? Oh that shouldn’t be needed–I’m certain once we’ve Bonded that your brother will be–”

Mycroft couldn’t help it, he laughed. “To you?  Now I know you’ve lost your mind–I could barely tolerate you to begin with.”

“I hadn’t planned on Bonding you,” Magnussen was suddenly almost on top of him, holding him in place and slobbering on him. “You should be flattered.”

Mycroft managed to get away from him, although his shirt tore. “Bonds… you dosed me with a Heat inducing drug?  I assure you even in Heat I won’t be able to stand you.” The idea of Magnussen touching him at all made him want to retch.

“…You should have been more pliable by now…” Magnussen snarled and after an unfortunately brief struggle had Mycroft by the neck.  Mycroft felt dizzy and weak and hot… “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your baby brother would you?”

“I will have you hunted down and thrown in the deepest pit England has…” Mycroft snarled at him.  _Sherlock would be alright… he would have to be… Magnussen couldn’t afford anything that could be traced back to him… So very overheated…_

He staggered and felt a wracking wave of nausea and heat… after a moments struggle to keep from throwing up he changed his mind and aimed for Magnussen’s legs.  Magnussen  looked appalled–and Mycroft couldn’t blame him in that– and then backhanded him full strength.

When Mycroft regained his senses he was being hauled off the floor and shoved over the sofa again.

“This could have been at least pleasant for you.” Magnussen tore his trousers apart and held him down.

His physical symptoms were making him weak, and feverish, it was harder and harder to think … but there was absolutely none of the pleasant haze, or the certainty that it would be alright that he had felt with James–not from touching him, not from his saliva, not from the smell of him. He felt the man pressing against him–into him–and shuddered.

“You seem to think that I will be unable to testify against you in court–I assure you that you are wrong.” Mycroft snarled, he felt physically weak but his rage was an icy core of certainty.

“…You’ll be better behaved once we’re Bonded…” Magnussen had a faint trace of uncertainty in his voice– _he hadn’t expected me to fight under the drugs_.

“I doubt it,” Sherlock’s voice– _tired, possibly injured, but not badly enough to matter_. “If our parents couldn’t make him behave I doubt you have a chance.  Now step away from him.”

Mycroft felt Magnussen step back and he managed to roll his head enough to see Sherlock, leaning on John… holding John’s pistol.

“You do realize that I have a number of witnesses testifying that Mycroft came here voluntarily.”

While Magnussen and Sherlock faced off, Mycroft fought to remain coherent enough to get out of the zip ties–he was hot, and dizzy, and the remains of his clothes felt too rough and… _I want my Alpha_.

“And Mycroft will testify that he did not.” Sherlock’s voice had the tell-tale  harmonics of an angry Alpha, and so did Magnussen’s… _My Heat pheromones and the smell of my upset would be adding to this,_ Mycroft managed to realize as he finally got the zip tie loose. _An Alpha fight over an Omega?  Only one of them would live to walk away._

Mycroft saw a heavy object and tried to reach it…only to have one of Magnussen’s guards enter the room with a gun–Mycroft froze.

“…and now the situation has changed.” Magnussen’s voice was smug and oily, “Put the gun down or my guards shoot you all and I sort it out later.”

Sherlock began to lower the gun.

“Better to die and take you down with me than to let you live.” Mycroft snapped and began to move.  _The guard would shoot him_ – he could see it with utter certainty, the guard was a Beta and didn’t have any concern for his status.  His death would remove the hostage from the equation, and Magnussen could NOT cover that up easily.

Magnussen and Sherlock both saw the inevitable: Magnussen yelled “don’t!”; Sherlock tried to swing the gun to the guard.

_He would be too late._

There was a cracking sound like glass or ice, and the guard’s hand–his gun hand–suddenly sprayed red blood and a trace of black smoke: his gun fell to the floor… it may have gone off, but no one was hit.

A red targeting laser dot appeared on Magnussen’s chest and traveled up to his forehead 

John stared at the guard–now clutching his wounded hand and holding very still– and then at the dot on Magnussen’s head. “What…?”

Sherlock paused, uncertain of where to aim the gun, and then lowered it and ran to Mycroft.

Mycroft slowly collapsed to the ground. “Do you think you could help me up, brother? My legs don’t seem to be working.”

“…over exerted on the treadmill again?” Sherlock tried for a dry rejoinder but his voice gave him away.

“Are those YOUR snipers, Mycroft?” John was still staring at the steady red light on Magnussen’s forehead.

“I’m much too valuable for anyone to just shoot me!” Magnussen said desperately, “And if I die my information is released–no one wants that!  The prime Minister, your colleagues… they won’t give that order.”

Sherlock helped him over and Mycroft sank gratefully onto a chair, shivering. “Ah… you misunderstand: none of the governmental people likely would give that order, but that sniper works for my Alpha.” He smiled with vicious satisfaction, “And I assure you, my Alpha will.”

“Your… Alpha?” Sherlock looked from Magnussen to Mycroft, “You Bonded? But…” he stared at Mycroft’s unmarked neck.

“Officially? Not yet.” Mycroft had to pause as a wave of screaming NEED hit him and he curled into a ball.

“I can offer–” Magnussen was trying to bargain when a furiously angry  but level voice interrupted him.

“There is nothing you have to offer, Mags, that isn’t outweighed by my Omega being harmed.”

“James…” Mycroft wanted to sound calm but he knew he didn’t.

“Jim?!” Sherlock’s voice was stunned.

“Oh, God, we had to add another lunatic to the mix?” John–anger over fear.

“Not how I wanted to have the introduction to the family,” James said lightly as he walked into view, “But this was a bit of an emergency.”  He didn’t come any closer. “Mycroft?  Are you alright?”

“Sick… whatever he gave me is… my Heat is hitting me like a bad flu.”

James’ voice gentled, “How many pieces would you like him in darling?”

“Darling?!”  Mycroft couldn’t tell if that was all of them or not–it sounded like all of them.

“Right now I don’t care… I just want my Alpha.”

“You’re half out of your head with Heat inducers, Mycroft–and I don’t trust myself to get any closer.”

“You… YOU are the mystery Alpha? James? Jim?!” Sherlock was sputtering.

James winced faintly, “Don’t get jealous, Sherly–we really never would have worked out… and… your brother and I are much better suited.”

Magnussen chose that moment to try to bolt.  What he was trying to do wasn’t clear, but the targeting laser dropped to his leg and there was a spray of blood and –Mycroft decided that was Bone– and then the sound of the gun.

Mycroft reached up and pulled Sherlock’s hand–and the gun– back down. “Yes…   that’s James… my Alpha.”  He felt so very hot…

“Mags…” James walked over to Magnussen and abruptly kicked him in the uninjured leg. “I put up with you because there was information about me I didn’t want getting out… but amazingly enough?  I don’t give a damn anymore.”

Mycroft managed to clear his head enough to ask, “Cameras?”

“Looped, or erased, or otherwise not a problem, Mycroft,” James smile was vicious but not at him, “Your PA assures me she has that all handled–she called me when she couldn’t reach your brother.”

“Then just shoot him… have him shot… and we all need to get out of here so we can… what was it you suggested? Blame it on someone else?”  He pulled himself to his feet using Sherlock as a brace.

James nodded and looked at John. “Heat inducing chemicals–especially given Mags probably double dosed him– can be risky… he’ll need a secure hospital and… Beta Doctors and guards.”

Magnussen tried to move and James kicked him again.

John glared at him and then at Mycroft, “Oh we will be having some WORDS about this!”

“I have no doubt.” Mycroft was barely able to stand, and Sherlock still seemed stunned. “I want nothing more right now than to have you take me home, James.”

James chuckled, “And I want to rip Mags limb from limb and then have my reward, Mycroft–but you need medical.”  He popped something in his mouth and moved quickly away from Magnusson.  He gestured and a small hole appeared just behind Magnusson’s ear… and the very expensive rug was suddenly quite red.

“Pretty!” James commented cheerfully looking at the halo of blood. “Take care of Mycroft, Sherly… and you and John need to get out of here with him while–what flower is she today?– and I make this look like a terror attack or something.”

“It’s ‘O’ today... something about a Rose variety name…”  And then Mycroft was locking his jaw to keep from whimpering.

Sherlock broke out of his shock enough to haul Mycroft away, with John’s help–although he was muttering darkly about locking Mycroft up until ‘you have regained your sanity’.

After what seemed to be only a few moments and dizzy spells later, he was at the secure hospital facility that he used…

“It’s not secure… he had my medical chart…”

“I’ll be right here, Mycroft,” Sherlock said firmly, and John was staying there… and someone gave him a shot….

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every fairy tale needs a good old fashioned villain... and this one has a happy ending

Mycroft slowly drifted to wakefulness with the certain knowledge that all was well.

 _Wait…  but Sherlock was hurt… and… Magnussen?_   A memory of Magnussen holding him down and unable to fight–his head spinning and so very feverish– caused him to whimper.

“Mycroft?  It’s alright…” _James’ voice!_

Mycroft opened his eyes as he felt James take his hand. “James?”

“You are in the hospital, Mycroft,” James familiar smile was such a relief to see. “And everyone worth bothering with will be okay.”

Mycroft closed his hand over James’ and tried to move… “Ah… not…” he glanced at IV lines in one arm. “How badly hurt was I? What happened?  Is Sherlock alright?” then after a blink… “YOU are alright, aren’t you? I didn’t see any sign you were hurt…”

“My main source of pain was seeing you hurt and having to restrain myself,” James leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “You have a spectacular bruise…”

“Do I?  I remember him hitting me after I threw up on him…”

“I wish I’d been able to do worse than kick him, darling.  I do hope you understand that…”

“What story do I need to back up?” Mycroft asked.  James was here, everyone was alright–whatever he had to deal with now was… trivial.

“Actually we’re staying close to the truth–novel, I know. Officially your terribly clever PA got the panic alert as she actually did,” James shrugged, “He drugged and kidnapped you… after kidnapping Sherlock and John.  The only serious change to the story is that I was never there, and it wasn’t my sniper…”

Mycroft turned that over in his mind… “As long as the cameras were gotten to in time… and any witnesses dealt with…”

“The ONLY witness­ other than Sherlock and John to anything troublesome was Mags’ guard with the gun. After a brief discussion of the realities of life he has agreed to completely back our version of the story–whatever it was– in exchange for a limited sentence and retiring somewhere far, far away.” James leaned forward and flashed that wicked smile that Mycroft had grown so fond of, “I may have elaborated on the alternatives a touch…”

“I can imagine…” Mycroft couldn’t help smiling back.

James got him a drink and held the cup so he could sip from the straw. “How badly hurt was Sherlock?” Mycroft asked worriedly. “The more I remember the more concerning that is…”

“Well… he’s not really fantastic at the self-preservation thing, is he?” James chuckled, “It’s one of the reasons I had to step back and let them take you to the hospital… they both needed to get here too.  John injured his hands getting loose, and Sherly was shot– luckily not anyplace too important– but he didn’t even get that treated until your PA was here…” James looked thoughtful and added, “truthfully I suspect she had to threaten him to get him to leave your room.  He was kept for observation for a few days and then was dragged home by John and Mrs. Hudson.”

“A few days?  How long has it been?!”

“Almost a week: your PA is on the letter U, I believe.”

“Ursinia?”

“Uva Ursi… She’s just using Uva.”

“I was unconscious for a week?” That didn’t make sense; his throat wasn’t that dry

“Only for a day or two. You were kept sedated until the Heat chemicals worked their way through your system– Mags had given you far too much–after that you’ve been… well semi-awake?  I doubt you remember much of it.” he smiled fondly at Mycroft, “We had a delightful conversation about mathematics at one point which devolved somehow into a discussion of tea before you fell asleep mid-sentence.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I don’t–”

“Perfectly alright: it’s all Mags fault anyway.” He said it lightly and stroked Mycroft’s fingers.

 “Given how horrible I felt I expect so…” Mycroft tightened his grip on James’ hand, “The only feeling he ever caused in me was disgust…and nausea.”

“I felt like that about him on a good day…” James chuckled and changed the subject. “I could become fond of your PA, you know: she’s quite fierce, and surprisingly loyal.”

“Is she?  She’s one of my best analysts, of course…” Mycroft suddenly couldn’t stand another minute of this– _I need to know._ “So what now, James?  I… You’re my Alpha: you have been…”

“You called me that in front of them you know.” James looked terribly pleased, “that’s why I went ahead and announced you were my Omega…”

“Am I?” Mycroft was certain his grip must be uncomfortable, but James showed no sign of pulling away. “I… I don’t think I could deal with… there must be some way…”

“Don’t fret,” James brought up his other hand and stroked his hair back–Mycroft had a vague memory of him doing that in interrogation. “Did you know that the infamous Jim Moriarty had a brother? Looks very much like him, really–never involved in his criminal business though.  James Richard Moriarty is a perfectly respectable fellow–well, for an actor.  He had a children’s show called ‘the stationmaster’ and has been in the usual bit parts under a few stage names.  His current stage name is Richard Brook, and you met him looking into Moriarty’s business…”

“Richard… Brook?  Reichenbach?” Mycroft snorted, “A bit obvious don’t you think?”

“Well… yes?  But it was already a well-established identity; I just had to polish it up a bit…”

“Do I want to know why?”

“No.”

 _Something to do with his previous plans, obviously._ “Tell me sometime when I feel less like I’m recovering from the flu.”

“Of course…” his watch started beeping quietly. “Ah, and that would be my cue to depart.”

“I… yes of course.” Mycroft felt horribly unsettled and didn’t want him to leave, but of course he had to. “Do thank your bartender for me–those were excellent shots.”

James blinked at him and then grinned, “Why Mycroft, did you just make a PUN?”

“It was an attempt, yes.”

He blew a kiss at him and slipped out the door. Mycroft wasn’t alone for long before Sherlock swept into the room–followed by John: John had his arm in a sling.

“I am very glad you are finally…” Sherlock stopped and looked suspiciously at him, “He was here wasn’t he.”

“Yes.” Mycroft looked them both over.  _They were still healing, but they would be alright._ “He told me you were shot, and that Doctor Watson had injured his hands–he didn’t mention your shoulder was as bad as it seems to be Doctor– but that you would both be alright.”

John rubbed at his eyes with the arm that wasn’t in a sling, “Right! So… did you talk about your medical status? Or just ours?”

“Mostly he explained the basics of what I needed to know–having missed it by being sedated.  I still feel rather under informed.” Mycroft cleared his throat, “I do hope you understand I was… not myself, and not able to observe as well…”

“In addition to the noticeable bruising,” Sherlock said as he rather gingerly sat down, “You had a concussion and a number of soft tissue injuries–apparently Magnussen hit you and threw you about…” Sherlock’s voice edged into an Alpha rumble before he pulled it back. “That’s in addition to having severely overdosed you on black market Heat induction chemicals…”

“I remember that rather too well.” Mycroft sighed. “I assume they pulled a rape kit.”

John spoke up, “He hadn’t gotten far enough to qualify under law as rape–just attempted rape– but they did get some…” he trailed off.

“Pre-ejaculate fluid.” Sherlock filled in when John paused. “As well as finger bruises that very nearly showed finger prints, and a great deal of his saliva. I’m certain the lawyers would be debating the very fine line under law between attempted rape and rape for months if he wasn’t dead.” He lost some of his clinical tone, “Whatever the law may say about penetration, Mycroft, you… You will want to get counseling, I suppose–”

“You SHOULD get trauma counseling,” John said firmly, and them muttered, “although who could keep up with a Holmes I have no idea.”

Mycroft shuddered, “I desperately need a shower.” _So he hadn’t penetrated enough to make rape a legal certainty: that was still enough to require blood tests and…_ Mycroft forced his mind away from the topic.

Sherlock continued, “We would certainly have him on three counts of kidnapping, in addition to the attempted rape, if he were still alive to stand trial.” Sherlock looked him over intently: Mycroft let him.  “You… called Jim your Alpha.”

“I had already realized that it was… we were Bonded in all but the final steps and legalities.” Mycroft shook his head, “I understand this must be… highly confusing.”

“You can say that again,” John muttered.

Sherlock cleared his throat, “I thought at first that the only answer was Moriarty had been drugging you.”

“Certainly not!”

“I did realize that, but you must admit your relationship is… unlikely.”

“It certain is.” Mycroft nodded. He glanced at Doctor Watson, standing stiffly with his back to the wall. “I am sorry, Doctor, I know this must be difficult for you…”

“Bomb vest. Snipers.” John said rather tersely. “Difficult is the kindest word for it.  Moriarty was–is– an Alpha?”

“Yes, and… he was in interrogation–under Beta restraints, so completely insufficient.” Mycroft looked at the ceiling for a moment, “As I told Sherlock, my suppressants failed: what I did not say was that they failed from close proximity and physical contact with James, who was… unwell.”

“Unwell?”

“Interrogation, Doctor.  He was sweating and feverish–I suspect his body was protesting the conditions and…”

John nodded slowly, “Pumping up the Alpha hormones to escape–to prepare for a battle– as well as adrenaline and the usual–we saw it in the military Alphas sometimes in hospital.”

“Yes, and contact overwhelmed my suppressants–I began to go into Heat.”

“You said he was excruciatingly polite and talked mathematics with you.” Sherlock grumbled.

Mycroft couldn’t help but smile, “We discussed mathematics, and he invited me to a jazz performance… before I felt rather faint.  He casually broke the restraints and… got me my suppressants, scolded me over not having instant Heat suppressant and… gave us–me, rather– all the information we could ever want before leaving me safely in my office.”

“You look positively sappy.” Sherlock grumbled some more.

“He could have Bonded me then.” Mycroft looked very seriously at both of them. “And then I was foolish enough to go to meet him without security for food and music, and I could have easily been picked up at that point… he was unfailingly polite.”

“And you took him to the embassy party.” John sighed, “That night we followed your car about.”

“And had a wonderful time.” Mycroft nodded. “And then we sat down–in my home, yes– and had a long talk about political realities and…why.”

“Why?” John asked and looked at Sherlock.

“Why Moriarty didn’t just… Bond him, kill him, kidnap him…” Sherlock put his hand over his face. “Of course you wouldn’t tell me who he WAS.”

“I did say the two of you in the same room was a disaster waiting to happen–I still think it is.” Mycroft shook his head, “And we do need to talk about your history together…but… he made it very clear that he was interested in Bonding, in a family…”

“Good God!” Sherlock stared at him, “You? You despise children!”

“No, Sherlock, I found them painful to be around because it was too much of a reminder of… what I couldn’t have–I made my choice of a career a long time ago, and it meant foregoing family.” He paused and then admitted, “Also most of them are appallingly idiotic–I can’t blame the children over much, but the parents!?” he waved at Sherlock, “Can you honestly imagine me tolerating a typical Alpha?”

“I can’t imagine you tolerating a typical anyone.” Sherlock paused. “If he hurts you I will kill him myself–you do understand that?”

“You did say something to that effect when I first spoke to you about it.”  Mycroft put a hand out and Sherlock laced his fingers through his own, “I… appreciate it, but I doubt it will be necessary.”

“He was… very considerate of you–if oddly calm.” Sherlock admitted.

“He wasn’t calm–he was holding himself in check with great effort–also I suspect he had taken Alpha suppressants.”

“Probably… it would explain his lack of scent…”

Jane tapped at the door and walked in, “I need to discuss business with Mister Holmes before he is too exhausted.”

“You DID know that Moriarty was here?” Sherlock glared at her, “I hope your security isn’t THAT lax?”

“Mister Moriarty the younger– I understand he uses a stage name– was visiting of course,” she nodded, “He has been seeing Mister Holmes quietly for several weeks.”

“What?” John looked puzzled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Ah, the old trope of ‘it wasn’t me, it was some relative of mine?’  Do you think that will actually work?”

Jane smiled politely, “People are remarkably stupid, and the identification is solid.”

Mycroft chuckled, “James is an actor with a perfectly valid CV I am told…”

Sherlock looked annoyed and John appalled, but Jane simply agreed, “the usual small parts, a failed children’s show, a few other things–Luckily for him he has a trust fund and investments.”

Mycroft smiled and felt some of his tensions ease. “He did mention he used to teach ballroom dance, Uva, perhaps you should ask him about it.”

She made a note. “You two gentlemen might want to go get Mister Holmes a better meal–he may have eaten hospital food without complaint due to the sedative, but I doubt he will now.”

“You did NOT let me be fed that… that…!”  Mycroft sputtered as Sherlock and John were escorted out.

Jane waited until the door closed and shook her head, “Of course not–not secure enough in any case.” _Hmph–evil woman, she was smirking at him._ “But it did get them to go fetch you food.”

“It did.” Mycroft shook his head. “So you obviously met James…”

“He’s much more pleasant to deal with when he isn’t acting the madman.”

“I’m not entirely certain it’s an act… but I’ve gotten accustomed to it.”

“I did explain that a cell in a forgotten corner of London would be the least of his worries if he took advantage of you.”

“You’re too kind. So what happened with my position?”

“It’s still in flux,” She looked down at her pad, “while the public story simply says ‘an Omega working in a secure office’ your peers know it was you. The majority seemed to be of the opinion that you will need to retire, a few were trying to suggest Bonding you to some… reliable and security cleared Alpha.”

“I trust you disabused them of that notion?” Mycroft said as icily as he could manage.

“I pointed out that you had an Alpha you had been seeing, but were concerned about the impact of a relationship on your work. That you had been planning to break it off, but that he had been very concerned and supportive once he found out that you were hurt… and I thought you might retire to civilian life after the trauma.”  She smiled slightly, “At which point several of them changed positions to trying to keep you on.”

“Of course,” Mycroft snorted. “I believe I shall retire to an advisory position–an orderly transfer will take quite some time in any case.”

“That seems to be the wisest course.” She nodded. “Since your Alpha’s cover identity is supposed to be related to Moriarty, we should be able to take it to some advantage…”

They discussed politics and strategy until Sherlock and John came back with food–it did not come from a hospital cafeteria, but was still not very inspiring of appetite– and Mycroft eventually sent them all out with a plea that he needed to rest.

He woke up later that night to find James settling into the chair by his bed, with a box of fish and chips from the Magpie on his bedside table.

“How kind of you, James…”

“Well… we did have a date at the Magpie to talk about slime removal…”

“Got it a bit backwards I see.”

James waved his hand, “Fairy tales you know… they’re always a bit odd.”

“Fairy tales?”

“Once upon a time there was a monster who was endangering the kingdom, and the brave and reckless hero prince was clearly going to get himself killed charging at it, so his older brother–the crown prince– and a flower maiden resolved to deal with it themselves. Unfortunately the monster had the two brothers–oh yes and a knight the hero had along for an audience– kidnapped and taken to a distant castle.  What he didn’t know was that the crown prince had made an alliance with a much more powerful monster…”

“Monsters bring fish and chips to hospital beds?” Mycroft teased, “And don’t monsters usually end up with PrincESSes?”

“Well, ordinary monsters perhaps: I’m an extraordinary one.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster, but you are certainly extraordinary.”

“I think you may still be a bit delusional, but that’s sweet.” James smiled, “Anyway… the crown prince basically rescued himself–with a bit of help from his princely brother and the knight– but might have been badly hurt in the process.  Luckily the allied monster showed up in time to help out…” he dropped the jovial tone, “I am truly sorry I didn’t get there earlier.”

“It was more dramatic that way. So how does your fairy tale end?”

“Well, with the usual ending of course!  They always skip the boring parts where the reports get written and the other nobles whine about everything. The Crown Prince marries the Monster–who is revealed to be a Prince of course, at least as far as anyone can prove–and everyone lives happily ever after.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after some deliberation i have decided to add another story to this series... the one telling the events from Jim Moriarty's POV. That one will be more violent, less sweet in many respects, and... quite probably more explicit.   
> (his thoughts are a bit more chaotic than Mycroft's even if in general he is still a gentleman and all)


End file.
